#wilfred owen

[madnessofmen]

me and the mutuals

[madeline-kahn]

Benediction (2021) dir. Terence Davies

[kald-dal-art]

Part 2 of TMA Episode posters, been procrastinating a bit on this series, but hey got the perfect excuse to work on it again so why not.

Hope you like these ones as well :^)

[apoemaday]

Dulce et Decorum Est

by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! -- An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime -- Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud   Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -- My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

[sleepytimegal777]

1. Symphony of Terror - Claggett Wilson / 2. All Quiet on the Western Front - Erich Maria Remarque tr. by A. W. Wheen / 3. The War - Otto Dix / 4. Dulce et Decorum Est - Wilfred Owen / 5. Paths of Glory - Christopher Nevinson

[soracities]

Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black; Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh.

Wilfred Owen, from “Mental Cases”

[deepfriedpaddymayne]

girls when they remember that wilfred owen was killed in action A WEEK before the armistice was signed

[mr-oscarwilde]

Happy birthday Wilfred Owen! (b. 18th March 1893) ↳  Know that since mid-September, when you still regarded me as a tiresome little knocker on your door, I held you as Keats + Christ + Elijah + my Colonel + my father-confessor + Amenophis IV in profile. What's that mathematically? In effect it is this: that I love you, dispassionately, so much, so very much, dear Fellow, that the blasting little smile you wear on reading this can't hurt me in the least. If you consider what the above Names have severally done for me, you will know what you are doing. And you have fixed my Life – however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but I shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze.

[apoemadaykeepsthehoesaway]

Storm

-Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

His face was charged with beauty as a cloud

With glimmering lightning. When it shadowed me,

I shook, and was uneasy as a tree

That draws the brilliant danger, tremulous, bowed.

-

So must I tempt that face to loose it’s lightning.

Great gods, whose beauty is death, will laugh above,

Who made his beauty lovelier than love.

I shall be bright with their unearthly brightening.

-

And happier were it if my sap consume;

Glorious will shine the opening of my heart;

The land shall freshen that was under gloom;

What matter if all men cry out and start,

And women hide their faces in their shawl,

At those hilarious thunders of my fall?

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

~ Wilfred Owens, "Dulce et Decorum Est"

via poetryfoundation.org

text id under cut-off

[ID/ Wilfred Owens poem, "Dulce et Decorum Est"

"Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

/end ID]

[madnessofmen]

Love the way this article opens. He was an academic failure, poor, gay, and underemployed. Truly relatable to the modern youth

[theladyigraine]

Benediction (2021) dir. Terence Davies Siegfried and Wilfred dance the tango

Bonus: ‘the dip’

[haveyoureadthispoem-poll]

"If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood / Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, / Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud / Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— / My friend, you would not tell with such high zest / To children ardent for some desperate glory, / The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est / Pro patria mori."

Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!

[thatpodcastkid]

Magnus Archives Relisten 7, MAG 7 The Piper, Spoiler-Free Version

This is a spoiler-free analysis of Magnus Archives MAG 7, The Piper. One of the best-written episodes in the series. Pure poetry.

Facts: Statement of Seargent Clarence Berry regarding his time serving with Wilfred Owen during World War One. Statement given November 6, 1922.

Statement Notes: "Hey you know Wilfred Owen? The famous poet Wilfred Owen? The guy whose poems you had to read in class Wilfred Owen? Yeah, what if he was possessed? Wouldn't that be fucked?" -Jonny Sims at the Rusty Quill pitch meeting.

In all seriousness, this episode is incredible. The description of the three faces of war is so detailed, yet so brief. I want to take a little time to explore each face and set of arms.

The First Face: "One to play its pipes on scrimshaw bone." This line is apparently where the title "The Piper" comes from. As the story goes on, both Berry and Owen describe hearing strange music. This seems to be the "song of war" that the Piper plays, signaling a truly gruesome battle. This song doesn't necessarily warn off or compel the soldiers, but seems to do a bit of both. A war song doesn't just encourage a soldier to fight, but also warns an enemy. Wilfred Owen believes this being is The War itself, therefore its song should encourage violence from all sides, but also instill a deep fear in every soldier.

To me, this face fits with the hand raised "in a crisp salute." This hand and face prevent a false majesty and honor to war. This face tells the soldiers fighting is good, they will be rewarded, they will be valued. But of course, underneath its muddied green coat, all that the War has is a scarred and bloody body. "Nothing remained but the wounds themselves."

The Second Face: I've chosen to associate the face that "screamed its dying battle cry" with "the arms gripping blades and guns and spears." This face seems to represent the adrenaline violence and war brings, even as it kills you. I've always thought adrenaline not as good or bad, but creating more tangible and real emotions than other things can.

The Third Face: "One that would not open its mouth, for when it did blood and sodden soil flowed out like a waterfall." I associate this face with the hands begging for mercy. Clarence Berry is under 22 when this statement takes place, and (the real) Wilfred Owen would be between 22-24. These are practically children. They are going to die. They are going to die before their time, before it is fair. They are going to beg for mercy. This is the nature of war, and so is the nature of The War.

There is an implication that The War kept Owen alive so he could create poetry that glorifies The War. I wonder if this is out of ego--it wanted to be seen as glorious and beautiful--or simply to drag the battle on longer. If it seems inspirational, it will continue.

Overall I think this episode demonstrates the tentative balance World War One held between being "the writer's war" and "the technological front." The war represented a shift in humanity's ability to be brutal, but also spawned art and innovation. This doesn't justify the violence that occurred, but rather the acts of destruction and creation during the war existed in tandem, like two sides of a coin.

Character Notes: I know that Jon was speaking through the statement when he was making fun of Owen's poetry, but the idea of Jon being a cannon poetry hater is too funny for me to ignore

[drysaladandketchup]

Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen in Benediction

Sassoon, who survived the war... would later write, ‘(Wilfred’s) death was an unhealed wound, and the ache of it has been with me ever since. I wanted him back — not his poems.’